Time flows like water, days and months pass in a blur. The sun rises and sets, spring flowers wither and bloom again. Unbeknownst to most, it's been almost a year since the No One Under Heaven crew arrived in Middle-earth. Over this year, each disciple has grown and changed in their own way.
Rachel Luo, Li Yuncong, Oddball, Chainsaw Girl, and the other core members have already figured out their paths ahead. Their progress has been tremendous—like a complete transformation. Even Senior Brother Mentor, after endless travels and reputation grinding, has become a guest of honor among the kings.
Thanks to his charm, knowledge, and skills, he’s highly valued by the kings, even as an outsider. He’s been made a noble in several countries. Aside from Jasper Xiao and the twins, he’s the only Chosen One to achieve this.
After achieving this, he received a secret scroll from the kings’ treasury. The scroll was like a book with most pages torn out—no title, no notes, just three random, incomplete pages. But after reading it carefully, Senior Brother Mentor was overjoyed. He recognized it instantly as part of the Heart of Impermanence Sutra, which he’d once obtained a tiny fragment of.
According to Senior Brother Mentor, this Heart of Impermanence Sutra is the ultimate psychological manual, and its origins are anything but simple. The fact that its fragments circulate quietly across multiple worlds proves it’s extraordinary. Although these three pages don’t connect with the part he got before, his study of them still brought big gains.
He claims that when he returns to Earth, his Heavenly Ranking will shoot up. No Chosen One ever stops moving forward, but he’s convinced his progress will be leaps and bounds. Clearly, he’s got a ton of confidence in himself.
As for the regular folks who tagged along, their achievements vary widely. The hopeless cases aren’t worth mentioning, but those who passed the trial, joined No One Under Heaven, and showed potential—twenty-eight in total—have been traveling or training, all gathering strength in the Sunmoon Mountains.
As for the twins, their whereabouts have become a mystery in the last few months. Even Rachel Luo has to wait ages to see them. No one knows how far they’ve grown or what they’ve achieved. They’re way ahead of everyone else, and getting farther all the time—people are losing sight of their backs.
But this world won’t stay peaceful and quiet forever.
The shadow of death is like a bowstring drawn in silence—deadly, but unseen. When enough power has gathered, the hand of conspiracy will let go. In the next moment, killing intent bursts forth.
Emergency military report!
Emergency military report!
The command was relayed layer by layer toward the royal palace, while the knight, surrounded by shouts, rode straight into Rohan’s most prestigious hall.
"What’s going on?" The King of Rohan, old yet regal—a true warrior king—strode forward. "Why are you alone? Where are the others?"
"The others... they sacrificed themselves..." The knight collapsed from his horse, barely able to stand. The palace guards rushed to support him. His face was desperate and determined, tears streaming down, but he forced himself to report: "We saw monsters! Lots and lots of monsters!"
"What kind of monsters?" Seeing the knight about to faint, the old king grabbed his shoulder and shouted, "What were they like? Why did so many die? Where’s the battle report?"
The knight gave a bitter, resolute smile, showing his last loyalty to his king: "I am—the battle report!"
Clang! He shoved the king aside and suddenly drew his sword. Before the palace guards could react, the knight reversed his grip and, with a sickening sound, plunged the giant sword through himself! The blade burst from his back, and bright red blood dripped onto the palace floor.
But on closer look, the blood was mixed with some strangely colored liquid.
Hissss! Sharp, hissing sounds suddenly came from his abdomen—clearly, something monstrous was parasitizing him. The King of Rohan stared in shock, then snapped to attention and shouted, "Quick, fetch the knights of the Silver Hand! Use Holy Light to save him!"
It’s too late. It’s the Mordor Legion—they’ve returned... The knight, his fighting spirit pure, summoned his last strength and stared unblinkingly at the old king, leaving his final words and wish: "Protect our homeland, care for our loved ones, my king..."
Sharp claws pierced the knight’s abdomen from the inside—eight pitch-black talons like a spider’s legs. But no matter how the spider struggled, it had been impaled by the sword. Venom glands released icy poison; the knight was frozen into a statue, his life extinguished.
The old king watched it all, clenching his teeth and fists.
That battle report was detailed enough.
Build a statue for him—I want him to stand at the palace gates forever! The old king turned, drew his sword, and swung it fiercely, his powerful fighting spirit booming: "Light the beacons! Notify the dwarves, notify the elves, notify the kings—and that damned Steward of Gondor! Tell them it’s time to honor the alliance! Alert all Middle-earth: Darkness has returned. For survival, for protection—we fight to the death!"
And so, the great beacon was lit.
Flames soared three meters high, shining brightly—even in broad daylight, everyone could see clearly. The nearby beacon guards, seeing the signal, rushed to light their own towering piles of wood, passing on the urgent message.
Beacon after beacon was lit—across grasslands, forests, mountains, and marshes. The alarm spread like wildfire, crossing mountains and rivers, reaching every corner of Middle-earth.
In Goldenwood, flames lit up the watchtower.
In Silvermoon Woods, the guards sounded the horn.
In the dwarven lands, the dwarves pounded thunderous drums, their angry shouts echoing through the bottomless mines. The hatred between the Mordor Legion and the dwarves ran deep—they would never forget.
The wise kings stood in their palaces, gazing east. They knew that place would soon change. The shadow that once loomed over everyone might return.
In the elven medical ward, the heroes of the Ringbearer Squad groaned in pain, unconscious. The stronger the darkness grew, the worse they suffered. If they couldn’t endure, they’d be pulled into the shadow realm to serve the Dark Lord.
Suddenly, Aragorn—still unconscious—forced his eyes open and grabbed the Elf Princess’s hand. He handed over the sword that symbolized the king’s throne, and with his last strength, whispered a name before fainting again: "Jasper Xiao..."
At the front lines near Mordor, in Gondor’s magnificent White City, the Steward stood beneath the withered White King’s Tree.
To the east, at the end of the fertile plains, a range of mountains lay like sleeping giants. He knew these were the famous Mount Doom. Years ago, smoke billowed daily, darkening the sky—and his heart. After years of peace, perhaps the dormant volcano was about to awaken.
The sun shone brightly, but the Steward suddenly felt cold. His face pale, lips trembling, he muttered fearfully and hysterically: "Who knows which damned, dog-born, smashed Dark Lord will bring back his minions..."
Beyond the distant mountains, chaos erupted in the Alliance of Light’s military camp. Soldiers rushed out, alarmed, as the ground beneath their feet trembled more violently and frequently than ever before.
Beneath Mount Doom, in the vast lava lake, a towering Balrog summoned terrifying magic.
“Satuna, Kalifa, Labistuna!” The Balrog chanted ancient magic words, its thunderous voice rumbling. Magic surged from the lava lake, filling the space. Above the Balrog, the iron-chained boulder was smashed apart, revealing the Ankara Gold Dragon bound by giant chains.
The Ankara Gold Dragon’s body was dark gold, immense and majestic, radiating a terrifying aura.
“Kurutuslika, Brutofa!” The Balrog’s voice grew louder, magic surging stronger. Strange patterns spread across the dragon’s body as mutated monsters fitted adult-sized armor plates onto the dragon.
The plates were all tungsten steel, each as big as a tower shield, but for the dragon, they were merely scales. The plates clicked onto its body, making it impervious to blades and arrows. Monsters brought out metal spikes as thick as a man’s thigh, specially forged to fasten the armor.
Holding the giant spikes in place, massive battering rams were raised on both sides of the cliff. At the Balrog’s command, the monsters howled and cut the ropes.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—the battering rams whistled through the air, smashing into the dragon.
Bang, bang, bang—the giant spikes were driven by the battering rams, punching through the plates and locking the armor in place.
The Balrog raised its arms, its voice echoing loudly:
“Awaken!”
Hiss... The dragon took a deep breath, draining the fiery magical energy with a single inhale.
“Fight!”
The Ankara Gold Dragon’s eyelids fluttered open, black light flashing from its eyes. After a year of preparation, the Ringwraiths had finally possessed the Ankara Gold Dragon.
“For our lord’s conquest—fight, destroy!”
The dragon’s breathing grew heavy, its body straining against the massive chains. The little monsters rushed to help unlock the seals, but with a mighty tug, the dragon snapped a giant chain. Even ancient chains couldn’t bind the resurrected legendary dragon.
Dark smoke will shroud the sky, Mordor’s iron hooves will rend the earth, and molten lava will burst forth!
The dragon’s breath echoed deeply, its massive gusts blowing away any monsters caught in the blast, and even the lava falls swayed. With a sweep of its tail, three chains shattered with a crack. The tip struck the cliff, shaking the earth and mountains.
So awaken the deathly shadow from ancient times! Compared to the Ankara Gold Dragon, the Balrog was smaller, but its aura surged: "Let us burn everything!!"
Bang, bang, bang—all the chains shattered. The dragon’s wings unfurled, dark as storm clouds.
ROAR————————!!!!!!!
The terrifying roar ruptured the eardrums of countless monsters, blood streaming from their ears. The Ankara Gold Dragon gathered its strength, then suddenly soared skyward.
Thunder roared as Mount Doom exploded, spewing ash that blotted out the sky. Dark red light flickered at the crater, then with a deafening boom, lava shot skyward. Lightning cracked, and through the thick clouds, the massive Ankara Gold Dragon flashed by, soaring into the storm.
The dragon flickered in the smoke, adapting to its new body. Below, the Alliance of Light’s warriors were stunned, minds blank. Before they could react, the dragon finished warming up and dove. The wind howled, and in a blink, the dragon filled their vision, its terrifying aura multiplying.
In their final moments, the warriors saw searing light erupt from the dragon’s throat. Deep within the light, a flaming eye glared at the world, roaring a message:
The Dark Lord Sauron—has returned!!